


Love Story

by puppyfacedbrokenboys



Category: Glee
Genre: Abuse, Blangst, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Love, M/M, Songfic, Violence, blaingst, gay slurs, high society - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppyfacedbrokenboys/pseuds/puppyfacedbrokenboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the love story of two high society sons that met at the age of eight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The song is Taylor Swift's Love Story.

The sun was setting off the shore as a summer breeze swept up from the water. My eyes were fixed on the beautiful dreamlike scene in front of me. The sun made the water look as if it were sparkling as the soft waves crashed below me. Palm trees lined the cliff's edge beside me.

I was alone, but I knew he would make his way down the beach to this spot soon.

I was currently sitting on a mini-cliff that was often used as cliff diving fun, but at night it was dubbed ours from the very first night we spent here.

_"Nuestro lugar especial…" he had beautifully murmured quietly in my ear._ Our special place… _The words sent pleasant shivers down my spine as he had leant over my shoulder and captured my lips in a sweet, sensual kiss._

"I knew you'd be here," he said, his rich voice rushing to my ears like a symphony.

I was so deep in thought that I didn't notice him approach, but of course my body did, having subconsciously responded to the feel of his presence, the fiber of his being as his words broke the tranquil silence of the crashing waves, acting like it always did when he was around: like I was his and _only_ his.

I looked up at his face, his beautiful profile being lit by the setting sun, giving him a golden glow like a Greek… well, Puerto Rican god. I still can't believe I was the one that was granted the pleasure of being in his warm embrace, of being able to take in the golden glow of the sunlight upon his face. Or that I was the one that made the glow reach his eyes when there was no sunlight.

I put my hand up to his face as he came to sit behind me, pulling his attention off the beautiful picturesque sight in front of us to just me. His now golden brown eyes peered at me like I was the only person in the world, my heart fluttering for the billionth time since I first caught sight of them when we were eight, as always.

His lips pulled back in a smile. Amusement; he knew full well what he could do to me with the simplest action of a smile. I needed to get out of his spell. I stretched my neck up, closing the space between us as our lips connected like they were made for each other. I broke the kiss, leaving him breathless, and turned around with a smug smile upon my face.

His arms came around me, our left hands immediately joining so I could feel the cool but warm reassuring security of the metal around our fingers that showed the world that we were meant for each other. I leaned back in his embrace, feeling our breathing and hearts align in perfect harmony. I closed my eyes, leaving the real world of the Puerto Rican paradise and falling back into the abyss of the amazing memories of the past…

_We were both young, when I first saw you_  
 _I close my eyes and the flashback starts  
_ _I'm standing there, on a balcony in summer air…_


	2. First Meeting

To an eight year old, the perfect night would be spent running around outside, burning off the random energy that flows through a kid's veins. But to an eight year old like me, a night like that involved making it through a formal dinner party without incident, acting like the perfect little gentleman, and of course, _not_ putting down the family name.

Mom and Dad were a high society couple. They were always seen as the perfect couple, in turn making me be seen as the most prefect son and the Andersons as the most perfect family. Needless to say, it was some serious pressure on a little boy of eight years that should just be worried about riding a bike outside in the backyard. But instead, I was more interested in the latest fashions, and most importantly: being _perfect_ in every sense of the word.

At the time, I did not mind at all. I was perfectly content with following Mommy and Daddy around like a shadow and being shown off as the prodigal son. It was how society was. You were bred into it, having it ingrained in your brain from the moment you were developed enough to start to learn.

* * *

_I see the lights; see the party, the ball gowns_  
 _I see you make your way through the crowd  
_ _You say hello, little did I know..._

* * *

This night was a formal dinner for some French lady that did something. I really didn't care too much and it was hard to keep track of all the parties' subject matters. I was only eight, I just loved to dance and see all the pretty women in their ball gowns and the men in their tuxedos. Why would I care why the party was being held, when my parents could barely keep track themselves?

I stood on the balcony that led to the outside, but also over-looked the ballroom. My hair was heavily gelled to tame my unruly curls. For an eight year old boy, this was the norm. All the boys had their hair gelled because god knows if we have even one little piece of hair out of place it's the end of the world. My feet were already protesting in my brand new shiny and stiff black dress shoes. The lights sparkled overhead as I peered down to the many moving bodies on the dance floor.

A chocolate-brown head, shorter than the rest, streaked its way through the crowd as two adults followed it. I couldn't really see what it was yet, but I would soon. Mother caught my eye as the couple and the chocolate streak was making their way towards my father. She looked up at me, giving me a look that I knew all too well: _Get down here and meet some of Mommy and Daddy's friends, or there will be no more parties for you._

Yeah, tempting but there really was no choice but to obey.

I descended the staircase with more grace than an eight year old should have. My back was rim rod straight as I plastered a polite smile on my face. When I made it to my parents, my father gently, but sternly, pulled me between the two as Mother and the female of the other couple giggled over something.

Daddy looked down at me, and I knew by heart what I had to do without looking at his eyes. "This is Miguel and Carmen Puckerman." I kicked the brightness of my smile up a notch in greeting, bowing a little. "And this is their son, Noah. He's your age, maybe just a month or two older if I'm not mistaken. I was friends with Miguel during college. They have just made it in from Puerto Rico." He patted my shoulder, part of the routine. "This is my charming son, Blaine."

I tuned out my father like I normally did, nodding when his tone changed to emphasize things, which was where I would nod. This type of exchange was always the same, and I wouldn't miss anything… plus, I had other matters to attend to.

So the blur of chocolate brown I had seen had been connected to a head, a boy's head to be exact. I was excited, because rarely would I find a kid my age. Maybe this party wouldn't be so bad now that I actually had someone that I could carry on some type of conversation with. Before I could say anything, he beat me to it.

"Buenas noches, Blaine. Agradable encontrarle," he had said in the most prefect Spanish accent a boy of eight could have. Let's just say even though I had no idea what he had said, I wanted him to speak Spanish all the time.

I studied the boy, taking in his slightly spiky chocolate brown hair (which was a real shock that it wasn't gelled) and his tux that he didn't look completely happy with. But what stopped me were his brown, hazel, golden-like eyes. I really couldn't tell the color. When the lights reflected off of them, a different color could be seen with every movement he made.

Usually I would respond with the polite and well rehearsed, "The pleasure's all mine," as I was taught to, but something in me froze up when our eyes connected. I was only eight, I knew I liked boys, but I had no idea what was happening and my head was wheeling from not knowing what the hell to do. His eyes were just the most beautiful orbs I had ever seen and needless to say I was instantly hypnotized by them. As if that wasn't bad enough, he then just had to throw me the first smile that sold my soul to him forever. I swear, my already wobbly knees got weaker and my dad had to pinch my shoulder to get me to talk.

"T-the pl-pleasure's all m-mine," I managed to choke out. Noah just smiled again while the parents just laughed. My face went red and I tried to hide behind my father in embarrassment. This was a first; usually I was very well-spoken, never having stuttered in my life. Mother patted my shoulder as she and Carmen shared a concerned look over our heads; the males sharing grins with each other. Noah, on the other hand, seemed quite at ease, but if you looked close enough his natural tan seemed to have reddened quite considerably. At this observation, a matching smile came to my lips and I calmed down to the point of almost normality.

This is where my courage kicked in, and I was as shocked as anyone else to find out that I was capable of such a thing. I slid back around my father and reached out my hand towards Noah, smiling away as I caught his attention again. "I think we should leave the adults alone. Let's go find some fun of our own."

It was an innocent proposal, one that I desperately wanted him to accept. I didn't know what it was, but something in me craved for him, his friendship and his company. At the time I didn't understand the feeling, writing it off as an opportunity to be in the same shoes as someone else and be miserable together.

"Thought I would've been the one to suggest it," he had said, smiling again, making me want to just stare at his smile all night.

"So… should I take that as a yes?"

"Take it any way you want."

At this I smirked, grabbing his arm and dragging him up the stairs, back to the balcony I had first spotted his dark brown head from. When we made it to the landing, we walked over to the open door and peered out into the garden. Noah took to studying the grounds, as I took to studying him again. He was closer now, so I noticed things that I probably wouldn't have if I hadn't stolen him away.

Now that I look back on it, that night I noticed that he was a little taller than me, that he was paler than he was now that he was out of the golden light of the sparkling ballroom. He was paler than his father, the same shade as his mother. In fact, it was apparent he got his coloring mostly from his mother, but his height and eyes from his father. His dark hair was a little spiky. A glow now was wrapped around him from the moonlight.

"You've probably heard this a million times—and would probably disagree since you wake up and see this everyday—but your garden is very pretty," he said, breaking through my thoughts.

"Yeah…" I pulled my attention back to the garden and then up to the moon. "I guess it's nice. But the true beauty isn't the garden. It's the night sky." I breathed in the fresh night air, spreading out my arms at my sides.

I saw Noah looking at me though the corner of my eye. "So I see you're a little night owl too, huh?" He smiled at me and nudged me with his arm. If he was older and knew that he was flirting, I'll bet he would have winked at me. "But really, I know something that's even more _guapo_ than the night sky."

He had said it in a _'you have to guess_ ' tone and I pulled my eyes from the sight and looked at him. I was only eight, so I didn't really know that flirting between boys was a bad thing. I put on a thoughtful expression anyway, acting like I was giving it serious thought. I didn't know for sure what "guapo" meant, but I think I had guessed right from what he said. "Hmm… I give up. Tell me."

He gave me a sly grin. "Nuh-uh. Not gonna work." He laughed and grabbed my hand, pulling me in the beginning stance of the Tango. He dipped his head and whispered in my ear as he started guiding me in this foreign dance. "You'll have to find out on your own." 

My friends Tina and Mike ended up coming later in the party, claiming their parents wanted to be "fashionably late". We all ended up dancing and talking and running around for the rest of the party.


	3. Confession

_That you were Romeo, you were throwing pebbles  
_ _And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet"  
_ _And I was crying on the staircase  
_ _Begging you, "Please don't go..."_

* * *

 

After that night, Noah's family ended up moving into the neighborhood that our mansion was located. Our parents spent as much free time trying to catch up on old times together as possible. Noah and I ended up being joined at the hip from then on. If you saw one of us, the other wasn't too far away. We wouldn't even go to a party for very long if the other wasn't there. Somehow our parents let us leave early. We just had to make an appearance and then we were off the hook.

Years passed filled with school, birthdays, parties, mischief, tears, laughter, and an endless amount of each other. We were a team—an unbreakable bond between two best friends. Nothing could break us apart. Not when my parents went through a divorce and I was sent to go live with my mother for two years in New York. Not when Noah returned to Puerto Rico to see his family or was forced to stay there when his parents decided it was their rightful home for three years.

He was the first one that I came out to. I was the first one he told when he found out his father had an affair and he had a half-brother that his mother seemed content to just ignore.

We told each other everything. We were each other's shoulder to cry on. 

For almost 10 years (from being eight to almost eighteen) things worked like that.

Until something shifted.

I knew it would happen; knew that it was gradually changing between us. But I didn't think it would happen like this. So sudden.

Noah became distant, me following suit. Graduation was fast approaching and I guess neither one of us wanted to face the fact that we would probably be separating, maybe even for good this time. College changed people. It was a hard fact to come to terms with.

I pushed it to the back of my mind the best I could. I threw myself into school and college applications, waiting for the right moment to reach out to him again. It wasn't like us to not talk for more than three days, even if we were so furious to the point of fighting each other.

At the time, I didn't get why he was the one guy that I couldn't stand to drift from. I had boyfriends that I never minded to just stop talking to for a while. It never really bothered me. But Noah… he was different and I couldn't figure out why.

Well, until that one night.

It had to have been three in the morning and I was just drifting off to sleep, having just finished a paper I had to do on _Romeo and Juliet_ for English. A _tap, tap_ on the window made me jump, waking me from my face down position at my desk.

I sat up, frowning as I pulled the paper stuck to my face off. I groaned as I felt a cramp starting up in my neck from the position I was in. I threw my blue robe on before walking over to the window, bracing myself for the cold rush of air as I opened the window. It was April and still a little chilly at night. As I peered down, I caught a glimpse of a shaved head with a Mohawk running down the middle.

Noah. I'd know that head anywhere.

I laughed and leaned against my window sill. "Is there a reason you are standing out in the _cold,_ throwing _rocks_ at my window—" I paused to glance at my alarm clock "—at three o'clock in the morning? Really, Puckerman?" I groaned at him, propping my arm up on the windowsill and resting my chin on it. "You know, if my dad woke up, he'd beat you. No matter if you're Noah my bestie or not," I teased. "He hates tresspassers."

Noah's smile flickered in the moonlight as his laugh floated up to meet me. "I wouldn't be out here if a _Señor_ Anderson would answer his phone. Someone is avoiding their so called 'bestie', I think." Again, he burst into a fit of laughter.

"You're pushing it. Any louder and that beat down will not be from my father, I'll knock you out myself." He knew I could take him. Years of boxing and going to Fight Club together had proved that, even if he didn't like to admit it.

"Bring it on, dude!" He made a _'C'mon down here and try'_ gesture and I had to bite back a howl of laughter. It was bad enough he had yelled, and now I couldn't hear my father's tell-tale snoring; I didn't need to make it worse by being loud myself.

"Noah, meet me at the front door. I'll let you in. I think my dad's awake." From my tone, he didn't need to be told twice. This had happened before, Noah throwing rocks at my window, but miscalculated and hit my parents' window instead. It would have probably been okay if he hadn't actually broken the window. Dumbass. Dad had been furious and banned us from hanging out for a week. 

I quickly ran a hand over my hair, hoping it wasn't a total fuzz ball. I strained to hear if my father had gotten out of bed yet. When the coast was clear (I hoped), I tip-toed out of my bedroom and down the stairs as quickly as I could.

Noah was standing on the porch when I arrived in the foyer, looking in through the window. I opened it quickly, ushering him in. We were basically dressed the same, both in pajama pants, tank tops, and robes. The only difference was that Noah had on shoes. 

As usual, I led him to the kitchen, ready to make us hot chocolate. Through the years we had done this, one of us would wake the other up in the wee hours of the morning just to talk. At Noah's we'd have milk and cookies, at my house we'd have cake or cheesecake and hot chocolate.

We sat for a while in a comfortable silence until I felt Noah's eyes boring into me as I picked at my piece of cheesecake. I looked up at him, tired of the silence even though I could sit there forever with him, but mostly it was his staring.

"What's up? You wake me up at three AM, throwing rocks at my window. Then you sit here and eat my cheesecake in silence, and then stare at me like there's no tomorrow." I was smiling. He knew I was teasing but could tell that there was an underlying ' _tell me what the hell is up before I hurt you_ ' tone to my voice.

He moved his dark brown eyes to his cheesecake, using his fork to carve little designs in the filling that I couldn't make out. He knew I was polite and wouldn't press him, and that I would wait until he was ready to talk. After an agonizing three minutes, he finally broke the silence. "Nothing, Blaine. I've missed you."

I rested my chin on my hand, nodding. "Uh-uh. Is that all you have to say?" I pressed lightly. I usually didn't press, but Noah did sometimes need to be prompted to say more or he'd clam up.

Noah gave me a look, a look that I couldn't read. I rarely couldn't read him. What was going on? He shifted in his seat.

"Blaine, is it wrong for someone to miss their best friend?" he asked in a weird tone that I couldn't place. It was a light tone, trying to stay aloof but it was failing slightly. I didn't understand why.

I pursed my lips, playing with my own fork. "Not really," I answered honestly. I tried to keep my face passive, but the confusion broke through. Where was this coming from?

Noah chuckled a little. He was nervous. His hand shook a little as he pointed his fork at me. "Why is it hard for you to believe that I've missed you and this is the only time I could think of to hang out?"

"You really can't think of a _better_ time?" I looked up at him, trying to hide my own nerves. "One that doesn't involve sneaking you into my kitchen at three AM?" I moved my cheesecake aside, seeing my own hand tremble. I opted to rest it in my lap as my eyes rose to lock onto his. "C'mon, Noah, I know you. Just tell me what's wrong."

Noah took a slow bite of his cheesecake and chewed. Agonizingly slow when you want answers. He was thinking, I could tell, probably wondering whether to blurt it out or lead me on more. I didn't know which I really wanted.

"Okay," he finally broke the silence, breaking eye contact with me. He started to tap the counter top with his finger. I, on the other hand, kept my gaze on his face, waiting for a betrayal of his self-control. "You know how we read _Romeo and Juliet_ in English?"

 _Uh-uh_. I nodded.

"Well…," Noah said slowly, "what if I told you I was Romeo?"

I was confused. After a few seconds he looked up at me, searching my face. I was still silent, trying to get the gears in my brain turning. What did this have to do with anything?

"Okay. I dunno," I blurted out as I looked down at my hands in thought. "Um… are you trying to say you're Romeo and… and you found your Juliet?" How cliché was this? And why was he having this conversation with me? And why am I sounding so disappointed… and feel it too?

"Yeah… I think so." It was a quiet whisper. I wouldn't have known he said it if I hadn't looked up and saw his lips move. The air in the kitchen got colder and the walls felt like they were closing in. Why was he telling me this? And why was he so quiet and just… _still staring at me_?

I stood up and took our empty glasses to the sink, effectively turning away from him. "That's nice. I hope you're happy with her," I whispered hoarsely. I set the cups in the sink, feeling a hot, wet feeling on my cold cheek. Was I crying? And what _for_? Unbidden, a small gasp escaped my mouth.

Noah must have heard it; had seen my body tense. I heard him move, felt him get closer as his footsteps moved across the floor. He reached out, spinning me around and wrapping me up in his strong arms. "Why are you crying? Don't you know who Juliet is?"

_What the fuck did that mean?_

I unburied my face from where he had pulled me into his neck, and looked up at him. I was ready to ask him why the fuck would I know, when I felt the words catch in my throat. His thumb grazed my cheek, brushing away a tear. I shook my head and fought to keep my tears locked inside and to keep eye contact with him. Then he smiled and if he wasn't holding me I knew I'd be a heap of crying mess.

"Juliet is… my best friend." Noah smiled even more and winked at me.

I pushed lightly on his chest, grounding myself to this moment as confusion overtook me. My eyes were wide and I couldn't process his words. "Excuse me?"

He just laughed at me, lightly, smiling fondly. "Well, I guess Juliet would be Julio or Julian in this case." Then he put a hand to my cheek and bent down and kissed me.

It was a soft brush of the lips that seemed to bring our worlds crashing together (More than they already were). I found that I fit perfectly in his arms and was just the right height that he didn't have to strain his neck and I didn't even have to rise up on my tip toes to kiss. It was bliss; people say it all the time, but this was really what it was. He had stopped moving after that initial brush of lips, seeming to linger in place as my thoughts tried to catch up.

But wait… this was—Noah was kissing me? _Noah_ was _kissing_ me! _Blaine_. His _best friend_. A _boy_. What—

"Hold on," I said as I pushed firmly against his chest, leaning away from him. "Did what—how— _what the hell was that_?" I hissed, not knowing how I really felt right now. On one hand I was pissed that he sprung this on me like this, and on the other I was relieved and excited that this was finally happening, and the way it happened was sweet—but, still, what the actual fuck?

Noah's face fell slightly as he backed away. My arms twitched to hold him close, so I crossed them over my chest. It was safer. A hand moved up to rub the back of Noah's neck as he shrugged.

"I think I just… came out to you, and then came on… to… you?" He seemed as shocked as I felt. He looked up desperately at me. "I didn't—Blaine, I am _so_ sorry. I didn't want that— _No_ , I mean—" Noah rubbed his hands over his Mohawk as he groaned, turning away from me as he tried to get his mind together.

My heart sank. My body felt numb as I stood frozen with my arms crossed against the counter. We stood in silence for a bit, Noah with his back to me, and it just hurt that he wouldn't even look at me. "N-noh," I whispered and I saw his back tense as he winced. "Please, just, look… at me." My voice broke once his sad eyes met mine. The breath rushed out of my body and I was so glad that he decided that he could talk again.

"Blaine, this—" He paused, chewing his lip to try to pick the right words. "This is _not_ how I planned for this to go, to be honest," he admitted, putting a hand to his chest as he chuckled nervously again. "Okay, look, yes—I am gay. Well, kind of. That's what I wanted to tell you tonight. But, after that—"

"It's okay," I surprised myself by saying. I pushed myself up from where I was leaning against the counter. I understood. I was in his place when I was fifteen, and I just couldn't stand to see him struggling anymore, so I had to say something. To help him out. "It's okay, really. It's just so… surprising, that's all."

"You're telling me," Noah muttered.

"And," I began, closing my eyes. I was taking a chance, and I hoped it was the right thing. "I-I feel it too…"

There. There it was. It was out there in the open. I had had feelings for this boy in front of me for about a decade now. I suppressed it, kept it quiet and hoped that the feeling would go away because he was my friend and _wasn't even gay._ But that wasn't the case now, apparently.

The silence felt like it was slowly crushing me after my admission, but it was soon shattered by the sound of Noah's footsteps. I don't know if it was closer or further away because my eyes were still closed.

"You do?" It was so soft, but seemed to echo in the silence of the room that it made me jump a little. I opened my eyes slowly to see that he had, indeed, taken a step closer and his brown eyes were wide with surprise and hope.

A smile broke out across my face. "Hell yeah, I do!"

Noah gave a relieved breath as he said, "Oh, thank God," before we were rushing to close the gap between us.

This kiss was full of heat and passion, with biting teeth and tongue and wandering hands. Noah shifted his feet and began to back me up until my back hit the counter. Before I knew it, Noah had grabbed the back of my thighs and lifted me onto the counter. My back knocked into the cabinet, and I broke away from him with a low hiss of pain.

"Sorry," Noah apologized, wincing as if _he_ was the one who had slammed his back.

I laughed a little, hooking my arms around his neck to pull him closer. I pressed a feather light kiss to his lips before running my tongue over his bottom lip. My eyes locked onto his as I said, huskily, "It's going to take something harder to break me."

Noah growled low in the back of his throat and captured my lips again. Hands roamed on skin as lips slid against each other. Curses were breathed against necks as our body's moved with each other.

In one not so swift move with his hand, Noah knocked the pots and pans over that were drying next to me on the counter. We heard the crash and it took a few seconds to comprehend what happened. We jumped apart in shock.

"Oh, shit!" Noah had yelled, and I had yelped loudly at the same moment.

That's when we heard the footsteps of my father clomping down the stairs. He had a baseball bat in one hand and a tequila bottle in the other. Not a good thing.

I was scared shitless, and taking a glance at a bare-chested Noah ( _how'd that happen?_ ), he was scared too. I looked down at myself quickly, my tanktop was rolled up halfway (probably the reason why Noah had knocked the pots over) and I went to close my robe only to notice that it had been discarded in a heap on the floor. We were in deep shit.

"Father," I croaked, squeaky and weak. "This is not what it looks like." I rushed up to him to make him see, to hear me clearly. To keep him calm enough to get Noah out in one piece. I had one boyfriend who my dad had caught sneaking out of the house and he had ended up in the hospital. I had never told anyone, and the guy had just said he'd fallen down the stairs. My dad wasn't too fond of my being gay.  
  
"Like hell it is. It's like a porn movie set in here," he exploded and advanced on Noah. He grabbed Noah by the collar and dragged him to the foyer by the door like a rag doll.

I followed them, jumping in front of Noah like a protective guard dog. I clenched my teeth and defiantly looked up at my six-foot-three enraged father.

He didn't want to deal with me so he backhanded me hard, sending me flying to land on the floor by the stairs. I pulled myself up on the step, sitting on the stairs to stay out of shot from my father before he hit me again. If only Noah could sit with me.

"Blaine, I'll deal with you later!" my father bellowed, pointing at me. I shut right up, seeing the fire behind his eyes. Silent tears rolled down my face as I felt my stomach clench in fear.  
  
"I knew you were the _fag_ that was influencing him," he spat in Noah's face, literally, his tone deep and malicious.

I flinched at the derogatory word that escaped his mouth. It killed me when I looked up to see the look of absolute terror behind the look of bravery on Noah's face. Anyone else would be cowering in the face of Nathaniel Anderson's anger. Not Noah Puckerman.

"Stay away from him. Got it, _son_?" my father continued. He used the word 'son' as a form of mockery now, so different from the affectionate uses of before.

Noah nodded mutely and slowly backed away from the enraged man. I know he didn't want to, that it was in his nature to fight to protect himself and his loved ones. But this was a losing battle and he knew it. He looked at me, a sad and heartbroken expression on his face that mirrored my own. Our eyes connected for a second, tears streaming down my face.

I begged him with my eyes, silently mouthing the words: "Please don't go…"

Silently he mouthed back: "I love you." His eyes were shining with unshed tears. He turned his back on me, had to for fear of getting clobbered. Then he left the house.

Nathaniel turned towards me, smiling like nothing had happened. He patted my shoulder on his way past me on the stairs. My body trembled as I winced. "It's for your own good. Stay away from him. Promise me."

I clenched my jaw and stood up on wobbly legs, clutching the railing like a life line. "Yes, sir," I said numbly and turned and fled to my room. 


	4. Meetings

_And I said,  
_ _"Romeo take me somewhere, we can be alone_  
 _I'll be waiting; all there's left to do is run  
_ _You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess_  
 _It's a love story, baby, just say yes."_

* * *

Days passed; painfully long days. I wished I could have moved out of my father's house for good so I didn't have to go back there and be alone. Noah was banned for eternity from the house.

At breakfast the morning after my father had threatened Noah, he had gave me a long speech about how if Noah ever stepped foot on the grounds again, he'd skin him. And if he ever caught me having any contact with him, I'd be skinned, too. Peachy situation, right?  
  
The only time we could see each other was school and his band practice. We stole kisses as often as we could. It was becoming almost painful to part when it was my curfew. His arms felt so right and protective around me, his lips soft and warm, reassuring, and gave me strength. Seeing his golden eyes, a glimpse of his Mohawk in the hallway, or that beautiful smile was enough to put the butterflies in my stomach and to make my sadness melt away.

When I was with him, it was just about us. My father, college, all the stress in my life seemed to vanish the moment he flashed his smile my way. Oh, how I loved that boy.  
  
One day, when I was coming out of Math, I saw his tall frame walking to our usual meeting spot: my locker. We still weren't officially a couple at school, so we had to sneak around. No one seemed to notice if we were any closer than normal; the perks of (secretly) dating your already close best friend.

I sped up my pace and grabbed his arm, immediately dragging him into the closest room… which ended up being a janitor's closet. It was dark, so I spun him around and gave him a passionate kiss. I felt him tense under my touch and fumble for a light switch.

My sudden laughter filled the tiny room, making him give up his search for the light switch with a sigh. "Miss me?"  
  
"Damn, Blaine. What has gotten into you?" He leaned down to capture my lips again, slow this time. I could feel him smiling.  
  
"Is that complaining I hear? Oh, well, I guess I can always grab Sam when I have an urge to kiss someone in a Janitor's closet. Nice seeing you, Puckerman." I lightly pushed his chest and turned to open the door. A pair of arms wrapped around me (with surprising precision in the darkness) before I could take two steps, pulling me back into a tight and broad chest.   
  
"Nope, not happening. Over my dead body is Sam getting you," he growled into my neck, pressing a rough kiss to the back of my neck. I sighed, melting into him.  
  
"Oh, that can be arranged, y'know." Even though his kisses had an overwhelming effect on me, I could still sass like the best of them.  
  
"If Sam got you I'd rise from the dead and kick his ass. Then Santana would probably kill me again."   
  
"And we wouldn't want that, would we? I like you breathing, quite honestly." It was supposed to be filled with humor, but the statement was hollow. Too close to the situation at home. Noah had found the light and flicked it on, bringing us back to blinding reality.   
  
"I'm sorry, babe," Noah whispered against my ear. Against my will, my toes curled in my shoes in pleasure (I still wasn't used to him calling me _babe_ ).

We were silent for a moment before he nudged me and spun me around to look me in the eyes. "Anything change with your dad?" he asked. When I looked away from his gaze, he instantly pulled me back into a tight embrace. I was glad we had the same free period. I didn't want to leave his arms.   
  
"Nope, still the crazy asshole." I buried my face in his chest in an effort to keep the tears away. Silence fell between us for a while, lost in our own thoughts.

My mind began wondering; unconsciously noticing that Noah had grown to be at least four inches taller than me. Where had the time gone? I was short enough so that Noah could rest his head on the top of my head comfortably. I had always grumbled about the fact that I was always the short one, but I had never thought I'd see the day when I'd welcome the feeling. I had always felt safe in his arms, and this was no different. His strong arms felt like a protective force-field that I never wanted to be without.  
  
The world was so innocent back when we were kids. We didn't have to worry about all the stuff that we have had to go through together since then: the long distance, trying to hide our true feelings from each other, physical tussles of any kind (well, we had gotten into a brawl once and he ended up with a black eye and I had a broken rib. Lovely, aren't we?), and now this. It was like relationship hell and we had just made it official. I still don't know how we had made it to this point.   
  
"A janitor's closet, huh?" His mouth was next to my ear again, his soft breath tickling the nerve endings there.  
  
"Mhmm. Cozy and… secluded…" I lifted my head, looking around at the really _un_ -cozy room, but was cut off mid-sentence as Noah lowered his head and met my lips. We kissed soft and slow, trying to make it last as long as possible. The need for oxygen came and we broke apart, breathless.   
  
Noah led me backwards until my back softly hit the wall. I bit my lip in nervousness as his arms boxed me in. He leaned down slowly. I closed my eyes in anticipation. He didn't go straight for my lips, as I had intended, and instead made a detour. He kissed my forehead, eyes, nose, and then trailed down my jawline and started down my neck. His arms had moved to slide down my arms and around my back, holding me secure as I gripped his shoulders tightly.

Then he hit the pulse point in my neck, the spot that he had found would make me sigh against him after our first make out session after once of his band practice. I knew he was smiling his ass off and trying so hard not to laugh at me as a small moan fell from my lips.

The jerk thought he had me like putty in his hands, but not quite. I had tricks too. I'd get him, of course I would.   
  
I moved my hands from behind his neck, slowly and feather light, sliding them down his chest. He tensed under my touch, and I had to bite my lip to keep from smirking in victory. He was so easy to get back at. I leaned ever so slightly up, moving my head to the side, making our cheeks brush. I laid feather light kisses next to his ear before nipping his lobe breifly. He stopped and immediately pulled away.   
  
"Nng fair, Blaine. You know that I can't—!"   
  
"Point proven why I did it," I cut him off smugly, smirking at him and straightening up. I pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, trying to soothe the slight pout that had appeared because I indicated the moment was over. "C'mon, baby! Smile for me?"

I locked my eyes on his, a puppy dog expression forming on my features as I took his hands in mine, swinging them. He was trying too hard to keep his disappointed expression, his forehead scrunching up with the effort. How cute.   
  
"Baby, listen. This is school… This is not a place to get that… involved. You know if we didn't—," I rambled on until he cut me off.   
  
"—stop we wouldn't have; blah, blah. Mr. Dapper Boy would've been late to class, looking a hot mess," he finished for me in a teasing tone. A smirk grew on his face as his eyes subtly turned from gold to brown. "Yeah, yeah, I know the deal, babe. Just relax."   
  
"You started it," I pouted, turning around. I reached out for the doorknob. Before my hand touched the cold steel, I stopped, bit my lip and turned back to him. I launched myself into his arms, attacking him in a kiss. My hand trailed up his neck, fingers tugging lightly at the base of his Mohawk. His hands gripped my hips. I pulled away in order to gain oxygen.   
  
"Stay with me, Romeo. Take us someplace we can be alone," I said, calling him by the nickname he used to tell me that I was his Juliet ( _Juilan, whatever_ ). We moved at the same time, resting our foreheads together.   
  
"I'll be the prince you've always wanted. All we have to do is run and it will all work out," he recited with a vow in the underlying layers of his voice. He knew the song as much as I did. We shared soft smiles.  
  
"I'll be waiting," I finished. I hugged him, and then I took his hand and led him to the gym locker rooms. I cursed whoever gave us different teachers. We had gym and met up afterwards.   
  
"You coming to band practice?" he asked me as we walked outside to the quad, hands brushing.   
  
"Nope, can't. I really wish I could. But Father's got some slimly colleague coming over… something about Italian relations? I don't know. But I have to pose the prodigal son." I made a face at this. It was fun when I was a younger, but now it just plain flat sucked. Nothing my father did anymore was important to me. "You—"   
  
"—know the drill. Yes. Garden at three, am I right?" It's nice that we're so close that we can finish each other's sentences, but sometimes… he just needs to stop. It's annoying. But today I didn't care much; it was refreshing not to talk so much with him.   
  
"I knew there was a reason I kept you this long," I replied with a grin, leaning up to kiss him quickly. He stopped me though, putting a finger to my lips. Which was good, since, you know, _public_. He took a quick scan of our surroundings, and coming up empty, he lowered his head until there was only a breath or two between our lips. Torture, why did he do this to me?   
  
"Hey, get any sassier and I'll have to punish you," he replied in a mock-warning voice with a side smirk.   
  
When exactly did his voice get that deep? Whenever it happened, I'm glad it did. He just made me want to growl at him sometimes. "What if I wanna be?" I settled for being seductive, thinking that growling was not appropriate. I raised my eyebrows at him and ran a single finger over his chest.   
  
"Hey, ew, get a room would ya... or a secluded hole?"    
  
The voice made us both jump and groan at the same time. Noah spoke then, "Why thanks for the advice, Tana." It was just like her to come at the perfect time.

Santana Lopez: badass latina bitch. She was in Puck's band, the lead singer, so she was one of the only people that knew about them. She was also the one that wasn't surprised, having said, "Finally, because y'all were _practically_ fucking anyway." She was, surprisingly, one of Blaine closest friends even if she did have a thing with Puck their sophomore year. Blaine hadn’t been close to her then, having made her out to be an evil harpy that he wanted to vanquish back to hell for stealing Puck from him, but once they broke up and Blaine didn't have evil jealousy clouding his senses, he had gotten to know the girl. It was nice to get to know the Santana underneath. She was a girl that was really sweet underneath her bitch persona.  
  
"No problemo, Skid-Mark." She gave Noah a smug smile, knowing she once again hadn't failed to break up a perfect moment. "Hate to break up this powerful, but disgusting lover's moment"— _liar, you thoroughly enjoy this_ —"But Blaine and I have a mall date. You'll just have to continue this later."   
  
We both gave her mock glares. "Yeah, if you weren't going to be at this dinner thing, I think I'd go insane. Please tell me your dad isn't one of those slimy businessmen." All three of us shuddered with the memories of various personal experiences with our parents' colleagues.  
  
Noah and I grabbed our stuff and hugged. I whispered in his ear, "Three AM, garden. Don't make me wait or there'll be hell to pay."   
  
"Oh, so _now_ you're not waiting? Make up your mind, hobbit." He laughed then, muttering about crazy hobbits and how adorable they were.

His attention returned to both of us as he adjusted the strap of his book bag on his shoulder. "Have fun at the mall you two. Samuel, Michael, and I will actually be doing something _productive_." As if on cue, the two joined us. "Am I right, guys?"   
  
Sam gave him a confused look. When it sunk in what Noah had said, he nodded and gave Santana a charming smile as he gave her a peck on the lips. "Yes. What _we're_ doing at practice will be productive." Mike nodded his agreement.  
  
Santana rolled her eyes in true Santana fashion. "Like shopping _isn't_ productive," she replied as if the thought of it was just absurd that they didn't agree. "Y'all are invited y'know. I think watching us for hours trying on _all_ the formal wear would be fun."   
  
"Rain-check," Puck and Sam replied in unison.  
  
"Sounds good to me. I think it's time we go carry out our definitions of ' _productive_ '," I replied as I took Santana's arm and pulled her with me. "'Bye, gentlemen! Make them hits while I steal your lead singer for the day." They laughed at me, waved, and we all went our separate ways.   
  
Santana and I spent about three hours at the clothes shop. I had found a nice suit in the span of twenty minutes, while Santana decided the try on the whole store. We went back to my house to get ready. We danced around my room, acting crazy to kill time. It was good and kept my mind off of the impending boredom that awaited me. Santana's job was to keep me calm and I was to make sure she kept her mouth shut.

At half an hour 'til, Santana left so that she could arrive with her father. Even though we were friends, it was the proper way to do things.

When they arrived, I swept Santana up in a hug, kissing her on both cheeks. I was polite enough to say hello to her father, but I shook his hand with a little more force than was necessary. He only narrowed his eyes slightly at me. He was not pleased that I was friends with his daughter, and I think that my 'charm' disarmed him. I remembered him now; the same Brian Lopez that I had overheard making comments about the Hummels' gay son when we were younger. He had an upmost dislike for me (after finding out my orientation), which I returned subtly as to not attract any suspicion from my father. I had always disliked that man. He fit perfectly with my father.

I was on my best behavior, and so was Santana, surprisingly. She, too, didn't like her father too much, but what could you do? We both bonded over subtly rolling our eyes at the discussion topics from the two vile men across the table, but we stayed quiet. The dinner went off without any drama and my father got the deal he wanted. _Great_.

But nothing could bring me down from my anticipation for later tonight. I was seeing Noah again. The sneaking around was an addictive adrenaline rush.

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, I am taking a few liberties when it comes to Puck's heritage.
> 
> This was actually a fic I wrote in like 2008 about me and a band member and I decided to adapt it to Plaine :)


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